True North
by Marie Vulffe
Summary: When delinquent Gage stumbles onto—or rather, into—the portal that leads to the kingdoms of fairy tale, she has no idea that what she finds there will change her life forever. [Hiatus]
1. Open Doors

True North

© WolfGrrl 2001

When delinquent Gage stumbles onto—or rather, into—the portal that leads to the kingdoms of fairy tale, she has no idea that what she finds there will change her life forever. Mysterious Gypsies, irate nobles, and a band of misfits are just a few of the characters she encounters on her journeys. But they are only a part of what will prove to be a greater adventure…the discovery of her own self, and of the purpose behind her coming.

The quote is by Matthew Arnold, from his poem "The Future."

* * *

"_But what was before us we know not,_

_and we know not what shall succeed."_

**Chapter One: Open Doors**

_Manhattan, 6:08 PM_

Gage swore under her breath as she ran. Night was approaching, and Central Park was not a good place to be when the shadows fell. The trees and grass were a smear as she pounded down the trail, her heart in her throat. Breaths came in short, controlled gasps, and a stitch had appeared in her side, cutting short her diatribe as she ran. She had no time to pause and see if they were still behind her; she knew without a doubt that they were.

She ran—for the moment, there was nothing else on her mind but surviving this night. She ran—if she hesitated for even the slightest instant, they would find her. She ran—putting her entire being into the hunt—as the hunted, a position she detested. Fear surged within her as the stitch grew more painful; she couldn't keep this up for much longer. She needed an escape route—_fast_. There was no way she could outrun them; not here, where they knew the territory. They would have blocked off every exit from the park, and she didn't know enough about this place to find a quick enough hiding spot.

Shouting—did she hear voices? She couldn't be sure; couldn't spare the few precious seconds of pausing to find out for sure. Adrenaline flooded her system as she distantly heard the noises again, and she leaned into the wind, dark hair whipping about her face in a frenzy as she rocketed along. Arms and legs pumping, she stretched out, forcing herself on.

In another place, another time, she would have welcomed the race. Would have welcomed it with open arms and a wild laugh, for Gage loved a challenge. And she loved to run. But this—this was no game, no sport to be taken lightheartedly. She didn't like the feeling of the hunted; she loathed it, hating the fear and pain that invaded her senses, weakening her mind in all their simplicity with cringing and simpering. And she abhorred weakness, in any form, especially in herself. _She_ was the hunter. _She_ was the leader, the strong one. A keen mind and speed were her weapons of choice; she had both, in abundance. But now…now, what good was her quick wit, with ruthless hunters on her tail? What good was her speed, with nowhere to run?

But if there was one thing Gage was not, it was a quitter. She had a stubborn streak as long as the Nile and then some, and she would be _damned_ if she let some two-bit hired thugs pull her under. So she ran. She wasn't ashamed of it; she had no lofty ideas of pride or honor; at least not at the moment. It was survival of the fittest, and she intended to come out on top, no matter the means. If that meant running away from what was sure to be a slaughter, then she had no qualms about using her abilities to do so.

If anyone had been in the park to witness her escape, they would have barely been able to register what they had seen, so swift was her flight. Long jean-clad legs flashed in a stonewashed blur, her plaid-covered arms pumping at her sides, the over-shirt billowing out behind her. She didn't shift her upper body along with her arms; instead, she kept her body straight as an arrow, and low, since shifting would have hindered her speed. Dark shoulder-length chestnut hair lashed about her, stinging eyes the shade of dark amber.

Gage could definitely hear voices now; harsh shouts that echoed through the gathering dusk. A copse of trees appeared in her sight, about 200 meters towards her left, off the path. She urged her body onward diligently, stepping off the trail, but deep within her, she knew that her running was futile. The little cluster of foliage would only delay their search; in the end, she would be their captive. She had nowhere left to run.

* * *

_The 4th Kingdom, 6:05 PM_

Tony was ecstatic. It showed; he rubbed his hands together eagerly, and paced about the Mirror Room, grinning like an idiot. His daughter had finally decided that it was time for a visit, and had sent word to him via Wolf. She couldn't have made the journey at the time due to her pregnancy, and had sent her husband instead. Now, two months and one grandchild later, she was finally coming to see her old man.

Wendell eyed his older friend with something like amused exasperation. Ever since Virginia had sent Wolf with her message of a grandchild on the way, Tony Lewis had been in a tizzy, running around, making preparations for their visit; hopefully their _permanent _visit, since Tony had recently made up his mind to stay in the 9 Kingdoms.

The Prince—pardon; the _King_—of the 4th Kingdom was looking forward to seeing his 'stepsister' as well. He and the other man had been readying a suite in the castle for the couple and their baby ever since the news had come, along with a planning a masque ball in celebration of their return. He wasn't, however, sure about a permanent arrangement; he knew that Virginia Lewis-Wolfson had a mind of her own, and she might want to return to her own dimension, for the sake of the baby. From the sound of the message, and Wolf's general attitude—spastic with a bit of pre-baby jitters thrown in—it seemed as if the two were doing well for themselves in the other world.

Finally Wendell decided to try and calm his friend down; it wouldn't do for him to have used up _all_ his excitement before the trio even arrived.

"Anthony," he began in his usual sophisticated, if somewhat stuffy manner, "Do calm down. The mirror is on, and," he added somewhat sarcastically, "unless they've already managed to forget the location of the portal, I'm sure that the three of them…" he broke off his sentence to cover a yawn, then continued. "…That the three of them will arrive shortly." He blinked, and rubbed at his eyes wearily; all the planning going on for Virginia and Wolf's return had managed to take its toll on him.

Tony paused long enough in his pacing to gape at the King. "Forgotten! Oh, my—" he shifted his attention to the mirror, which was currently displaying Central Park, and behind the outline of the trees, the skyscrapers of New York. He rushed towards it. "What if they _did_? What if they got…got _lost _or something…" he trailed off when Wendell gave him a look. "What?" Tony asked, a defensive edge to his voice.

"I highly doubt that scenario. It has only been two months…" Wendell started to rebuke him, but Tony was nodding, looking a bit sheepish. He hung his head, laughing a little at his own foolishness. Of course they couldn't have forgotten! It had been only two months ago when Wolf had appeared on their side of the portal, just as Tony was about to step through to find Virginia and tell her of his decision to never come back.

"I know, I know. It's just that…" he sighed. "It's just that with all that's been going on; the planning for the bouncy castle, the welcome-back ball for Virginia and Wolf…"

Wendell placed a hand on Tony's shoulder. "It has been rather exciting around here for the past few months, hasn't it? Don't worry, my friend; once they have arrived, all will quickly settle down." But Wendell wasn't too sure of his own statement. He knew from experience that wherever those two went, trouble was never too far behind. He didn't doubt that this time would be any different.

Obviously, Tony thought the same way. He 'hmmph'ed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, right."

The two looked at each other; Tony with his usual expression of I-highly-doubt-it, Wendell's expression anxious. The both shook their heads, and sighed. Then they returned to their previous activities; Tony pacing, Wendell watching.

* * *

_Manhattan, 6:06 PM_

Virginia held little Tala close as she and Wolf approached the portal. Wolf had one hand under his wife's arm, the other holding the last of the parcels of their belongings. The other three were settled to one side, ready to be grabbed up and tossed through the magic mirror to the other side. Overhead, the sky was splashed with soft, muted shades of violet, blue, and pink as the sun headed towards the other side of the planet.

Virginia was, truth to tell, a little nervous. She didn't know how the travel would affect her little one, and she was anxious about how she would break their news to her father when they reached the 4th Kingdom. She and Wolf had decided a month ago, right after Tala was born, that they would be better off in the 9 Kingdoms, instead of New York. She didn't want her daughter to grow up in a place like this, with all of its destructive temptations and cruel nature. Of course, the other dimension was just as bad in some respects, but from what she had seen on her 'tour' through the Nine Kingdoms, she liked. It had its dangers and morality traps, like any other halfway-educated civilization. But she liked the people; people who could be cold and prejudiced, from Wolf's accounts, but they also had a sense of justice and goodness, which she had glimpsed from her time there. They believed in _what_ was right, not _who_ was right.

Wolf grinned happily. Finally, they were going home! He couldn't wait to see Tony. And the King, of course. He hefted the bag he carried, and chucked it into the portal. It disappeared with a sucking noise, seeming to disintegrate as it did so. The other bags soon followed suit.

Finally it was just Virginia, Tala, and he. For a few moments the couple stood, eyeing the portal in front of them, Virginia with trepidation, Wolf with boyish eagerness. In the distance, they could hear police sirens, and a little closer, harsh shouting. They turned to look in the direction from which the voices came, but saw nothing. Just a clearing between the copse of trees they stood in and the paved trail about 200 yards off. Wolf wrapped his arm protectively around his wife and baby girl; unnaturally quiet, as he had been almost the entire time they had been preparing.

Wolf's smile grew more serious, and tugged at her shoulder, urging her to not look back, but to look forward. The girl turned back to look at him; a long, searching look. Then she raised her chin and turned to glare at the portal, a familiar look that said a challenge had been accepted.

Wolf's smile brightened again, and it hit him: they were actually doing it. They were moving on, to gain a new foothold in the course of their destiny. No longer would they run from society and themselves; they would be in a place where their child could—_would_—grow up in peace and unity with people who cared for her, loved her, made sure she would never have to face life's tribulations alone. With her family.

"Let's go home," Virginia said softly, still gazing at the magical link between this world and the next. Without hesitating, both stepped in.

* * *

_Manhattan, 6:09 PM_

Gage made a mad dash across the clearing that separated the path and the cluster of trees. With the voices of her pursuers still dogging her every step, she flew to her haven, while the last rays of sun finally disappeared, leaving her in darkness.

She reached the copse, and put on the brakes, staggering to a halt, nearly falling flat on her face. For a few precious moments, all she did was breathe, bent over, hands resting on her knees as she gasped in painful bouts of air, the stitch in her side throbbing, making itself known. Her ears were ringing, and sweat flowed from her pores, dripping down her back, underarms, and chest. The cool night air, clogged with the vapors of the city, chilled her, leaving her shaking, barely managing to keep to her feet.

Finally, she looked up. She managed to stagger a few steps, and then fell to her knees in the dewy grass. Still she moved on, dragging herself farther into the darkness of the miniature forest.

A noise from in front of her made her stiffen, her head whipping up; ready to fend off anyone or anything that might come along. And froze.

There was…_something_…something standing only a few feet away from where she lay. It shimmered in the gloom, giving off a flickering milky white and blue glow, casting uncanny shadows on the trees and shrubs around her. It seemed to be _moving_, like a whirlpool, spinning in on itself even while she watched. The noise that had made her look up was a soft chiming sound, dim and far away. For some reason panpipes came to mind. And the sound seemed to be coming from the…thing.

Yet another noise. She tore her gaze away from the spectacle, back towards the…voices!

She could see them now, five of them; they were standing on the path that she had broken away from…and they were looking and pointing towards her shelter.

With a sinking feeling, she turned back towards the swirling pool of light. It was over. They had discovered her; when they got to her, they would either rough her up a bit and take her back to headquarters—or they would finish her off right here. It all depended on what orders they had been given.

Gage squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry. Now there really _was _no place left to run.

But wait…

She opened her eyes again, and fixed them on the pool of light. What was it? _Where does it lead?_

Gage swallowed. Where had that last thought come from? With a growing sense of panic, she twisted back around to look at the thugs. There were several more of them; they seemed to be arguing about something. But they hadn't moved, so she had a little more time. But not much more; any moment, they would come stalking across the clearing, flicking out butterfly blades and automatics with silencers.

She wondered—time for what? Surely she wasn't thinking of…

_The blue pill or the red pill_, she thought, somewhat giddily. Trying not to consider what she was doing, she hauled herself to her feet, and before the sane part of her mind could put up an argument, she flung herself at the pool of light.

_Let's see how deep this rabbit hole goes…_was her last thought before she was sucked in.


	2. Falling Further

01/17/06 - I touched this up a bit more.

Lyrics © to the Indigo Girls, song "Secure Yourself."

* * *

"_Secure yourself to heaven, hold on tight the night has come;_

_Fasten up your earthly burdens, you have just begun…"_

**Chapter Two: Falling Further**

"Virginia!"

"Dad!"

Tony held his arms out to his little girl, and she hugged him as best she could, trying not to disturb Tala, who was cradled in one arm. With tears in her eyes, she wrapped her free arm around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. For a moment neither said a word, then Tony pulled back and kissed her forehead, smiling.

"Well, I haven't had such an enthusiastic greeting from a woman in years," he quipped, and Virginia gave a shaky laugh. Still sniffling a bit, she turned to the King, who was receiving an enthusiastic greeting from Wolf. When her husband finally turned his attention to her father, she stepped over to Wendell. Instead of taking her hand and bowing, or something, he swept her into a hug, maneuvering so as not to jostle Tala. When he pulled back, he was smiling, and she couldn't help but grin back. The baby, however, soon diverted his attention, and Tony and Wolf gathered around as well. With a grin that only a grandfather can wear, Tony gently took his granddaughter into his arms. Wolf's chest was puffed up; never had he been prouder of his family as his Tala was fawned over by the monarch of the 4th Kingdom and his chief 'architect.'

Wendell was laughing and waving his finger at Tala, and Tony was making ridiculous faces, when suddenly a whirlwind clad in bright purple burst into the room. Everyone looked up at the disturbance.

"Your Majesty! Something terrible has happened…"Lord Rupert stopped abruptly when he noticed that there were two more people in the room than there had been a while ago. No…three more. Oh, dear. "Oh, _dear_."

"Is there a problem, Lord Rupert?" the King wanted to know. He and Tony glanced at each other. Knowing Rupert, it probably had something to do with the ball…which Virginia and Wolf weren't supposed to know about just yet.

"Er…well…" Obviously, the lord was thinking the same thing. Rupert was nervously eyeing the newcomers. He seemed at a loss for words, which was unusual for him.

Tony gave his granddaughter back to Virginia, and saved the poor man by taking him by the arm and gently steering him out of the room. Wendell looked and the others. "Well, I suppose we should get you settled in, first." He motioned hurriedly for a page, the one who had come with Lord Rupert but was waiting outside the door, to come in and get their guests' bags. With their luggage secured, all three rushed out of the room, Wendell to avert a potential crisis, Wolf and Virginia going along for the ride. In their haste, all of them forgot about one thing…

The mirror was still on. And nobody had noticed what had been happening on the other side.

* * *

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see. It was as if she was being squeezed in a giant's fist; she could feel the pressure from all sides, rushing down on her. She opened her mouth—did she? She couldn't really feel anything but the pressure—and tried to scream, but the air had been sucked from her lungs…and all around was the blackness, the terrible, weighty darkness that rushed in from all sides…

And then she fell. She landed with a solid thump, on her hands and knees, and suddenly she could feel something firm under her, something hard and rough. Her eyes were squeezed shut—when did she do that? —so she opened them.

Her face was inches from a floor; a stone floor. For a moment she sat there, breathing heavily, never taking her eyes off the ground. Then…

Voices! She scrambled up, but too quickly. One of her feet caught around the other's ankle, and she went tumbling backwards, her arms wind-milling furiously. Her wildly groping hands felt something, and she clung to it. But whatever it was that she grasped went toppling over with her, and she felt something attached to the object give under her right hand. Both landed with a crash onto the stone floor that was so different from the grass and dirt of Central Park; the impact jarred her. Something crunched underneath her, and suddenly it felt as if her entire back was on fire, along with her right elbow. Pain stabbed into her with a million tiny needles; for a moment she lay there, too stunned to move, trying to register what had just happened. Gasping for breath, she finally tried to haul herself up, and cringed at the broken glass splintering under her palms. She grimly pushed the pain to the back of her mind, and staggered to her feet, moving away from the obviously broken mirror she had landed on top of.

She thought for a split second of remaining still, so as to not cause any more racket, and then ditched it. By the sound of whoever's voices she had heard, they weren't that far away, and would have heard the noises. She cast a wild glance about her, scanning for an exit. There was an open door to the right of her, but the voices—the ones that were getting closer—were coming from that direction. Taking no time to see what she had landed on, and not caring, she jumped up, and bolted for the curtains opposite the doorway. She prayed to whoever would listen that they weren't locked.

She yanked open the curtains, and flung herself at the funny-looking latch on the window. Managing to pry it open, and taking no time to look behind her, she slung a leg over the windowsill. Grabbing at the sides, she managed to pull her body halfway out. Before freezing.

_Oh, my…_where the _hell_ was she?

The forest stretching out before her was endless, a great beast lolling in the late afternoon sun. The gently rolling hills that receded into the distance were swathed in oaks, pines, and others she couldn't identify. There wasn't a skyscraper in sight; nothing but green, and the roiling colors that the dying sun gave out. On the far horizon, she saw what suspiciously looked like the beginnings of a mountain range.

He vision swam for a moment, and the bottom of her stomach deserted her. For the next few seconds, all she could do was gape numbly at the sight and gain a death's hold on the sill. Finally, she managed to blink, and her head cleared a little. Forcing her eyes to tear away from the forest, she managed to get a good look at her perch.

She was three stories up, at _least._ And it looked like the walls were made of some sort of roughened stone, and covered in vines. She cast a quick glance to the right of her, and saw…a tower? But Gage had no time to ponder such things; she was wasting time, and any moment now the phantom voices would be coming for her.

She pulled her other leg over, and pushed her feet into the niches between stones—just the right fit for size-seven toes. When she was settled, she reached back in, pulling at the window until it was closed. Now for the tricky part—grasping a handful of vines, she gently put her weight on them, and let out her breath when they did nothing but creak under her weight. She tried not to think about her elbow.

She glanced back down over her shoulder, at the ground—water—below. _Water?_

_A moat,_ a voice in her head told her. Then that would make this…

_No! Don't think about it; just _climb, she told herself, and, taking a shaky breath, did just that.

* * *

Cold. All around him, the bitter, biting cold. He should be used to it by now. But somehow, he still feels it.

Noises. Down the…what is it? _Hall_, a Voice inside reminds him.

Cold. It seeps into his pores, slowly poisoning his body, burning his throat as he crouches. And waits.

Noises. What kind? The kind that mean something…_Food…_He feels his stomach turn. _NO!_ What kind of noises? _Voices._

A scratching sound. More…voices. No. One voice. "Move along! Pick up yer feet, man. Don't wanna to miss the surprise, do ya?" A rumbling sound, like…something. Laughter. Yes. He remembers that. Doesn't he?

A thin crack of light that slowly widens, till he sees the outline of…something. Again. He knows not what the creature is that stands before him, on two legs.

_Food…_the Voice resounds. He feels his stomach tighten, a growl tingling in the back of his throat. Sinewy muscles bunch and cord, ready to spring. From the shadows in the corner of his cell, he watches the creature pull at another creature, and the second stumbles in. Falls. The door is quickly slammed shut.

_Food…_

* * *

Gregory pulled the door closed hurriedly, and leaned against it for a moment, panting. By the Dragon, but sometimes he hated his job. Why couldn't the Governor feed his own pet sometimes? Or at least, make someone other than _him_ do it. He might be a bully, pitiless and cruel, but _no one_ deserved this.

His bulky frame jerked forward suddenly, away from the door. A noise was coming from the other side. A snarl, feral and inhuman then a scream, abruptly cut off.

Gregory eyed the heavy wooden door, swallowing uneasily. He fought to keep down his dinnerhe could now hear a muffled tearing noise, wet and slurping. Then, a distinctive crunching, as something splintered.

It hadn't been fed for about a week after the troll Reggil had gone, the entire prison echoing with his death shriek, the rest of the prisoners hadn't given the Governor any trouble. Until Falkirk, a snotty young elf that had been making himself more and more of a nuisance lately, had refused to give up his bedding for a new prisoner. It turned out to be his last mistake.

Gregory backed quickly away from the door, and the Beast on the other side. Then he turned around and, with one last look of revulsion tossed over his shoulder, made a quick exit, the scream still echoing in his head.

It didn't matter if the bastards were guilty. No one deserved to be eaten alive.


	3. Dread the Dawn

FINALLY finished this chapter! Woo! Aren't y'all so proud? Thanks to all you guys for reviewing, and encouraging me to continue.

Lyrics © Sarah McLachlan, from the song "Possession."

* * *

_Into this night I wander; it's morning that I dread;_

Another day not knowing of the path I fear to tread...

**Chapter Three—Dread the Dawn**

Almost there, she thought to herself as she drew closer and closer to her objective. She tried to ignore the stinging in her elbow, where a few glass shards were still imbedded. Finally, with about six feet left, she gathered herself, and leapt, landing in a crouch. Moments passed, and she managed to make herself rise to her feet, trembling like an autumn leaf in the breeze. She took a few steps towards the moat—for she was sure now that it was a moat—and stopped at its edge. She stubbornly ignored the rest of her surroundings, staring resolutely at the brackish, foul water…

She ran.

Even when there was nothing there, she ran. Naught but memories and a nameless fear plagued her steps.

Still, she advanced, the world around her nothing but a long, pale blur of road underneath and ahead of her. The road went on forever, the hard stones jarring her with every pounding step. Then, without warning, the world was a brown and green smear that receded as she flew into the unknown. The fear beat at her, threatening to evolve into panic, seeking to smother her in its consuming despair. Hair, dark and wild, whipped untamed about a tear- and grime-streaked face, lashing, stinging her eyes. Brambles and overhanging branches pulled at her, trying with all their inanimate might to trip her, to drag her down. But the girl ignored them. Ignored the throbbing, stinging pain that threatened to overwhelm her senses. Her chest ached. Her throat was raw and smarting. Her legs—she didn't want to think about her legs. They _burned._

Through a gap in the trees, she spied an opening, a clearing of some sort. She pressed on, feeling the desperate need for air as she picked up the pace. _Just a little farther,_ she told herself, an encouraging mantra that she kept reiterating in her head the entire way to the gap. The terror continued to flash through her, that nameless dread of the unfamiliar, and when she took the first few steps into the clearing, she let it explode.

She felt herself collapse to the leave-strewn ground, and for the next few minutes, or days—did matter? She didn't think so—felt nothing, save the agony of trying to regain her breath while her whole body racked with sobs. She sprawled out across the ground, her head buried in her arms, drenching the earth with burning, brackish tears. She was no longer aware of her raw, aching limbs, or of the time that passed while she poured out her frustrations and uncertainties.

* * *

_Earlier..._

The crash resounded through the passageway where they walked, and then a tinkling of breaking glass could be heard. The group froze.

"What was that?" Virginia queried uneasily, and they all looked at one another. Then back down the corridor.

"That sounded as if it came from the Mirror Room…" The King began, but Tony was already moving quickly back down the hall, leaving the rest to stand, perplexed, in the middle of the corridor. He didn't turn around, but tossed a "go on, you guys; I won't be but a minute" over his shoulder as he strode back down the way they had come.

Virginia frowned a little, still looking puzzled. "Window washers not having a good day?" She quipped to Wendell; but her brow was furrowed, face set in a hesitant expression. Wendell made no reply; he looked just as baffled as she. With a 'stay here' gesture at the other two, he began to move back down the hallway after Tony.

In silent agreement, both Wolf and Virginia, baby in tow, followed him.

Before they managed to reach the other two, however, a cry could be heard from Anthony as they hurried down the hallway. Wolf shifted quickly in front of his wife and child, moving swiftly to the doorway. A bewildering sight greeted him as he peered in cautiously. He felt his eyes widen, and his mouth moved silently…Wendell and Anthony looked as if they were in the same state.

From behind him, Wolf heard Virginia protest at the obstruction that was his body. "What on earth is going _on_?" She demanded, shoving her way under Wolf's arm as she tried to get a better view. And stopping dead in her tracks, so terrible was the scene before her. "No…no, that's not…" Virginia squeezed her eyes shut, brow wrinkling as she was trying to fight off a headache. "That's not our mirror, is it?" She whispered in a shaky, disbelieving voice, eyes still closed. Wolf couldn't say anything; he simply put an arm around his wife's shoulders. He could feel a tremor pass through her as her eyes finally opened, and she haltingly moved out of her husband's embrace, to walk carefully over to where her father stood silently gawping at the shattered portal.

Their mirror, their gateway back to New York, back to _home_, was lying flat on the cold stone floor, completely obliterated. The millions of shards glittered back up them, throwing back wild parodies of their reflections. It looked as if something had fallen right on top of it. There was an especially bad spot towards the right side of the mirror, a deep, small hole that seemed to be the point of impact.

Several small shards were missing from the center of the most damaged area. Wendell and Wolf moved further into the room, and knelt next to the mirror. Wolf hesitantly brushed his fingers over the origin of the break, his face a dark study. Virginia stooped down beside him, staring mutely, lips trembling.

She finally spoke. Dragging in a breath, she stood and turned wrathfully on Wendell, who was still kneeling. "What. Happened." She demanded in a low, furious voice, biting out each word viciously. Her eyes were ablaze as the King finally stood and faced her, looking dazed.

"I…"

"Virginia…" Wolf also rose, and put a restraining hand on her arm. Squeezing gently, reassuringly, he told her, "Now, c'mon…you _know_ Wendy wasn't here when it happened. Something…the wind…" He trailed off, not even convincing himself that it had been an accident. Throwing a helpless look at Tony, who still stood blinking at the destroyed mirror, Wolf tried to think of something. _Anything._ An explanation for this whole mess.

But for the life of him, he couldn't come up with a thing.

Virginia's face had crumpled, and she turned from Wendell to grasp at Wolf's arm. "Then how? _How_ could this have happened? _Who?"_ Her voice was rising shrilly; she looked on the verge of panic. Wolf felt as if he were going to be sick.

Wendell finally spoke. "'Who'…_someone_. Someone must have…" An incredulous expression dawned on his face, and he jerked around to face the group. "_Someone followed you."_

Tony seemed to come out from his daze. He gaped at Wendell. "The mirror! Who turned off the mirror!" He looked wildly at the other two. Both froze, and looked uneasily at each other.

"Did…"

"No! You mean you didn't…"

"I didn't!"

"…"

"Ohhh…huff _puff_!" Wolf yanked at his hair, whimpering. His eyes searched the room, glancing about wildly. He almost didn't register the curtains that were gaping open, just a few meters in front of him. Freezing, and then dashing forward in a panic, he grasped at the opened drapes. Stared at them a moment in silence, and then looked back up at the group that watched him edgily. He swallowed heavily, and turned again, this time to stare out the windows that the curtains should have covered. For the second time in five minutes, he was shocked speechless.

It was Wendell who finally broke the intense silence. "Then…then whoever came through…" He began to stride purposefully for the window, speaking as he went. "They must have escaped through the _window_."

Tony and Virginia stepped towards the other two. Wolf glanced uneasily at them, and then turned to give his Highness a cynical look. "Out _this _window?" He dropped the curtains and made a derisive gesture towards the offending casement. "Unless it was a troll or a mountain goat with a few extra digits, I don't think anyone would be climbing down from _here_."

They all looked out the window, and down at the ground, far, far below. Tony's eyebrows rose, and he swallowed uneasily. Moving closer with jerky movements, he undid the clasp, and placed his hands on the sill to hold him steady as he got a better look. "Or an Extreme Sports contender," he stated, not looking anywhere but at the walls of the tower. Virginia moved to his side to see the same thing he did: vines; thick, corded creepers that grew all along the walls, imbedding themselves into the very stone. Leaning down, she grasped at one, and tugged at it. The vine held.

Suddenly she jerked back up and whirled around to face the others. "_That's_ how they got down!" She cried, waving at the vines behind her. "The _ivy_."

Wendell's face slackened. Then, just as rapidly, it set itself in determined lines. "Right." He nodded decisively to himself, and with a last look at them, he turned and strode out of the room determinedly. Tony followed, dashing after him to keep up, leaving husband and wife to each other.

Virginia looked at him, the reality of it all slowly sinking in. When she spoke, it was in a soft, breaking voice. "Even if they catch up to them…it isn't going to fix our mirror."

Wolf couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he simply held her.

* * *

Darkness fell.

She did not notice until she finally sat up, still shaking from fear and exhaustion. She squinted at her surroundings, eyes smarting from dried tears, and realized that instead of the sun giving off its golden warmth to light the forest around her, the moon sent down muted, icy beams from its orbit above her, casting everything in shimmering, subdued silver. She choked, shocked at the abrupt change of scenery. Waves of adrenaline crashed over her, fear spiking her veins as she scrambled to her feet.

A headache was threatening to bloom in her right temple, and she clutched absently at her head as she took in the small clearing that she had fallen in, weaving unsteadily on rubber legs. Blinking back a new rush of tears, she attempted to process what had happened.

She vaguely remembered the swim across the moat – she could still smell the grime and other products that inhabited it – and running through a bunch of shrubbery. Tiny crisscrossed scratches and aching muscles were testament to her marathon through the woods; she swiped a hand dazedly across her face, to have it come away with a dark, sticky substance smeared on her fingers. She blinked at it, squinting in the poor light. Sniffed it. Yes, it was indeed blood; though the smarting from the wounds was fading.

The fear was still there, but she was becoming steadier on her feet. She took an experimental few steps, and was pleased with the results. Taking a deep, shaky breath in through her nose, she started planning.

First things first. She needed to find shelter for the night. No way in Hell was she going to spend the entire night wandering around in a strange forest, a forest that shouldn't even be there. She could figure out where she was come morning, considering nothing ate her while she slept. She suppressed a shudder at this morbid thought; she was a city girl born and bred – she had no woodcraft to ensure her survival, out here in the wilderness.

And wilderness it was. She could see no city lights reflecting off the small array of clouds that hovered in the night sky; nor could she smell the usual grease and exhaust fumes that she had been so accustomed to that she didn't even notice it. She was quite literally out in the middle of nowhere.

With this happy thought to keep her company, she set to walking, in the exact opposite direction from which she had come. But had no way of knowing that; nor would she have cared, had she known. _In the morning…when the morning comes, I'll figure it all out…I can fix everything in the morning._

But it would take much longer than that before she would be able to rectify anything. Little did she know it, but the path she had chosen would prove to be the longest, and most trying. Her journey had just begun.

* * *

Gregory stood in the office of the Governor, looking apprehensive and feeling much more so. He was here to report the success of his task, but there was no one in the room to report to.

The Governor had always set him on edge; he had a quiet, congenial air the majority of the time…but it was the other times that had his underlings doing their duties with a passionate, almost fanatic fervor, striving to appease their raging Master. He may not have been in residence at the moment—he had recently taken to organizing a hearing that was scheduled for tomorrow morning in the nearest town—but the very air of the room seemed to cull the man's presence, soaking it up like a sponge and releasing it upon the head of any who entered the room. In this case, Gregory's head.

The big man shifted uneasily, waiting for the Governor's Second to arrive. Not that the man was that apart from his superior in character; indeed, he was the Governor's cousin and intended heir to his estates. Both were easily likeable men; congenial and witty, stern and uncompromising in their beliefs. Those were just a few of the reasons King Wendell has chosen them as replacements for the last Governor, Lord Gareth, who had the misfortune to be unaware of not one, not two, but five escape attempts until it was too late, all in the space of two days. After Wendell had finally been anointed King, he had decided to make a few changes to the system, new blood being one of them. A few new judges and Governors for the prisons, a more lenient, fair system for the people, especially wolves, were put into motion by the young King. But he had yet to discover just how mistaken he had been in appointing Duke Kristoff and his young cousin, Sir Everard.

More than one guard had learned quickly to get onto the new Governor's good side, lest they be one more victim for the creature the two nobles had brought with them when Wendell first selected them for the Prison. The prisoners, it seemed, were a little slower to learn. The weekly screaming sessions still had yet to sink in. They hadn't seen what the guard had. And if there were smart about it, they would never have to. Gregory, though pleased with his new position as the Head Guard and next in position to the Second, Sir Everard, still cringed at the thought of his…extra duties. Feeding the Beast was one of them. He vowed never to cross the Governor, if he could help it. Do what you're told and keep your head down, that's what he told himself.

The guard just managed not to start when his thoughts were interrupted by the heavy door opening, creaking on its metal hinges, as the Second entered the room. Young Sir Everard stepped in, and Gregory tensed, snapping to attention. The Second raised dark brows calmly as he shut the door firmly behind him. "Is it done as I requested?" He had a mild voice, to match a serene expression. He was always the more laid-back, if you could call it that, of the two nobles. But Gregory still knew better. Beneath that calm veneer lay a sharp, cunning mind and a stinging wit that he employed when the whim hit him. Not to mention the disturbing sense of humor that left guards and prisoners alike blanching in his wake.

Gregory swallowed once before answering in his normal blunt tones. "Yessir, my lord. Falkirk has been punished, as ordered." He managed to speak over his accent when in either the Governor's or the Second's company; it made him feel a little more on equal ground. He stood straight at attention as he spoke, locking eyes with Sir Everard. Mild blue eyes met his as the other man moved to the Governor's desk, stirring papers idly with his fingers as he stepped behind the furniture to take a seat. Everard smiled, just a little, nodding in approval. Gregory let loose a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Is there anything else Milord needs? I'm due back at Block Twelve for the evening rounds."

Everard smiled his cool little smile again, motioning towards the door. "That will be all, Gregory. Thank you for doing your duty. The screaming was excellent today." With that last casual remark, he turned to the chores list for the day in the big leather book before him.

It was remarks like this that made Gregory more than pleased to be in Block Twelve. It was the cell block furthest away from the Governor's office. Jerking his head in quick acknowledgement, he left as swiftly as was deemed courteous. He didn't want to be there one instant longer.

* * *

TBC. Sorry, there really wasn't too much to add to this chapter; just the finishing touch on the final scene, plus some extra 'fo I threw in for y'all to chew on. Getting a little more of the picture?


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